


The Worst Part

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Don't Let's Start [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Common Cold, Gen, I don't even think this counts as H/c, More like sick/get turned into ten year olds, Sickfic, Well SPACE cold but yes, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: The problem with having identical immune systems is what hits one hard also takes down the other.Shiro and Ryou deal with it





	The Worst Part

“For the record,” Ryou muttered, pulling the blanket up farther on his head.  “I blame you for this.”

Shiro snorted.  Loudly.  He was shoved in the far corner of the couch, his own blanket draped loosely over his shoulders, and his cheeks flushed an unhealthy, heated red.  “Yes.  You caught me. I purposefully had my-” he sneezed hard into his lap, “-my sinuses cut open, and then had you copied and given an identical wound.  Just for this.  You’ve discovered my evil plan.”

Scowling back, Ryou reached forward and snagged the pad off the table.  He flicked through the movie options sulkily.  “You know how shit your immune system is.  You knew that planet was having an outbreak.  You could have least worn a face mask or something.  Kept your helmet up.”

“Yes, that would have made an excellent impression on the locals.  Thanks for your input.”  Shiro rolled his eyes.  “You do that next time you’re on planet, how’s that?”

Bristling, Ryou shot Shiro a dark look.  It was probably not badly meant, judging by how Shiro wasn’t watching for a reaction.  It still sucked to be reminded how little Ryou left the castle.  Why would he?  He wasn’t a paladin.  Never had been.

Also, Ryou was just in a terrible mood.  His whole body ached, he was uncomfortably sweaty, his stomach protested anything but water, and his head pounded in time with his heartbeat.

Remembering being sick and actually being sick turned out to be two very different animals.

It took several ticks for Shiro to recognize Ryou’s worsening mood.  He linked over, squinting at him in the pale lights of the rec room.  

When they’d both gone down, and been declared not sick enough for the pods to bother, they’d been mutually shoved in here and told not to kill each other.

In so many words.

Yeah, Ryou’s mood was awful.  Whatever.

“You’re more pissy,” Shiro finally declared, lips thin.  “Why are you more pissy now?”

“Your stupid face.”

Shiro rolled his eyes.  “Very clever.  Do I even need to say it?”

Shrugging, Ryou finally opened the list of movies on the pad.  “Whatever.  I’m putting on a movie.  I don’t want to just sit here and listen to our whining.”

Shiro picked his head up again.  “Alright.  Which movie?”

“Star Trek.”

Making in agreeable noise, Shiro flopped back down.   _ “Wrath of Khan,” _ he demanded, reaching to the table for the tissues.  His fingers stopped just shy of the box.  Groaning, Shiro strained his fingers, but still ended up just short.

Ryou watched for a few, dispassionate seconds.  Then he reached out with his toes and knocked the box away an extra couple of inches.

Arm dropping in defeat, Shiro let out a long groan.  “You really are evil.”

“Mmhmm,” Ryou agreed.  “We’re not watching  _ Wrath of Khan.” _

“Why not?”  Shiro picked up his head enough to squint at Ryou.  “It’s the best one.”

Ryou shook his head.  “Pidge, Allura and I started on Next Gen.  I want to watch one of those.  Besides, you remember Wrath of Khan well, so I do too.  I want to watch one I don’t remember.”

Nose crinkling, Shiro tilted his head.  “I remember the good ones,” he replied, voice quiet.

“I know.”  Ryou considered, then finally used his toes to knock the tissue box back.  If not, Shiro was going to start leaking everywhere.

Shiro let out a thankful noise and snagged the box up, taking a few tissues.  Then he tossed it onto the couch between them, where neither of them would have to strain to get it.  “So we have to watch one you remember.”  He stared at the ceiling, brow crinkled thoughtfully.

“No, we don’t,” Ryou replied.  “I want to watch  _ Insurrection.” _

The shock of that was enough to make Shiro actually sit up fully.  “What?  You’re kidding.”

Ryou shook his head.  “Nope.  I don’t know it at all, except that you hate it and it has to do with pretentious aliens.  We live with pretentious aliens.  How bad can it be?”

“Awful.  That’s the worst one!”  Shiro scooted closer to see over Ryou’s shoulder.  

Shoving out an elbow, Ryou scowled and forced Shiro back.  “Says you.  I wouldn’t know.  I haven’t seen it.”

“I am not watching  _ Insurrection _ while I’m feverish and I want to throw up.”  Shiro scowled at him, oblivious to the way his bangs were sticking straight up at awful angles.  “No way.”

“I’m sorry, who has the pad?”  Ryou waved it in front of Shiro, then yanked it back away before he could grab it.  “Me.”

“It’s my pad,” Shiro shot back.  “Give it back.”

Ryou considered, then sneezed.  Hard.  Ugh.  “No,” he replied thickly.  

“Don’t take my stuff,” Shiro shot back.  He made another grab, trying to reach over Ryou to get the pad, but Ryou’s elbow barred him from getting close enough.  “Get your own.”

“Mmm, I like this one.  Get another.”  Ryou scowled.  “It’s a movie, get over it.  You’re going to fall asleep halfway through anyway.”

“It’s a bad movie and I don’t want to watch it!”  This time, Shiro actually got on his knees and started to crawl over Ryou for the pad.  When his elbow failed to ward Shiro off, Ryou shifted and planted his knees in Shiro’s stomach.

Immediately, Shiro went green.  He pulled back, arms protectively over his stomach, and swallowed hard.  It took several gulps before he could unwind, and when he looked over, his eyes were glassy.

Ryou winced with real regret.  “Sorry,” he murmured, dropping the pad into his lap.

“Give it back,” Shiro repeated.

This time, Ryou hesitated.  He did feel bad for the jerk move, but he also really wanted to watch the movie.  It wasn’t an exaggeration that Shiro would probably be out half an hour in.

When he didn’t immediately give up the pad, Shiro’s eyes flashed.  “Or,” he offered, voice still too thick to be properly flip.  “We could watch  _ Nemesis.” _  He smiled, far too pleasant to be anything but ill-meant.

Ryou’s smile dropped.  He glared at Shiro, who continued to smile back.

“Why’s that?” he finally asked, gripping the pad tightly in his hands.

Humming, Shiro shrugged.  “There’s a lot about Data,” he offered, all too easy.  “You like Data.  And it’s not like it’s thematically inappropriate.”

Jackass.  Ryou narrowed his eyes at Shiro, who only continued to smirk back.  Yeah, sure,  _ thematically appropriate. _  The one with the clone who tried to kill the original.  Very classy.

Sure, Ryou could ignore it, or make a crack about taking notes.  He could even kick Shiro in revenge for the joke.

But he had a better revenge in mind.

“No,” he said.  “We’re watching  _ Insurrection.” _

Then Ryou licked Shiro’s pad.  

Mouth falling open, Shiro stared at him in complete dismay.  “What the  _ hell?” _

“Dibs,” Ryou replied, obnoxiously as he could.  He gave Shiro a toothy, nasty smile.  “Guess you can’t have it now.  I got my clone cooties all over it.”

“That’s disgusting!”  Shiro grabbed a pillow and smacked Ryou in the chest with it, which only earned him a laugh. Then he surged forward, reaching for the pad.  “Give it back!”

Ryou stretched out as far as he could, using his arm to push down on Shiro’s shoulders and keep him a crucial couple of inches of reach.  “No!  If you’re going to be a jerk, it’s mine now!”

“You shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

“It was the only one here, and it has the movie control program.”

“It’s still mine!”

From there, it was chaos.  Shiro dug his nails into Ryou’s shoulder, trying to make him give up through the minor pain.  He squirmed spiritedly, trying to get enough leverage to grab the pad.  But Ryou kept his arm stretched as far as it would go.  He hung the pad over the arm of the couch, as far back from Shiro was possible, and held by just the tips of his finger.

Reaching furiously, Shiro managed to smack Ryou’s hand hard.

The impact made Ryou drop the pad.

It fell to the floor with a crunch.

Ryou and Shiro locked eyes, horrified.  Then they both scrambled to the edge of the couch and looked down.

The pad was face down.  When Shiro gently reached down and flipped it over, the entire front pane of glass was shattered.

Oops.

Slowly, Shiro turned to look at Ryou.  

Coloring, Ryou hung his head.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  “I just wanted to watch the movie.”

There was a long silence.  “I probably shouldn’t have made the  _ Nemesis _ joke,” Shiro allowed.  “That was in poor taste.  But you took my pad.”  There was a whine to the phrase, a hint of being genuinely upset.

Which, now what he thought about it- yeah.  Shiro might be a little sensitive to Ryou moving into his space and taking his things.

Not that he could help it.  Once in awhile, Ryou forgot which things were his.  Until a few weeks ago, he’d honestly thought they were his.  Shiro had to change the code on his room just so Ryou would stop accidentally wandering into it.

“I don’t remember  _ Insurrection,” _ Ryou repeated softly. “At all.  I don’t know how I’d feel about it.”  Just because Shiro didn’t like it didn’t necessarily mean Ryou wouldn’t either.  Their tastes were diverging, a split they were both encouraging.

Shiro sighed.  “Fine,” he finally allowed, groaning.  “Except now we can’t watch any movies.  We don’t have a pad anymore.”

“We can if someone gets up and goes to the console,” Ryou pointed out.

They shared a long look, then mutually brought up their hands to rock-paper-scissors for it.

Ryou lost, which was fair, if annoying.  Groaning, he forced himself to his feet, and then braced his hand on the couch arm when the whole world swayed.

“You alright?” Shiro asked, still flopped out bonelessly over the couch.  “We can leave it and not watch anything.”

Grumbling, Ryou waved him off and stumbled over.  He squinted at the too-bright glare of the screen, but finally managed to get the movie playing on one of the projected screens.  Stumbling back, Ryou went limp onto the couch, flopping down next to Shiro, just as limp.

There was a pause.  “Your prosthetic is heavy,” Shiro informed him.

Ryou sighed but lifted himself up enough that Shiro could squirm out from under him, then rolled over onto his back to watch.  A second later, Shiro settled against his side, cheek resting against Ryou’s shoulder as he moved to watch too.  Once he was in place, Ryou yanked over one of the discarded blankets and draped it over them both.

They had about ten minutes of peace.  In that time, Ryou fought to keep from drowsing.  Now that he was completely vertical, and had the space heater that was a sick Shiro against him, it was hard to keep his eyes open.

Of course it couldn’t last.

The door swung open, bringing in a waft of salty smelling air.  “Hello, sicklets,” Matt greeted cheerfully.  “How are you-?” he cut off suddenly, as they both picked their heads up to look.  “Aww, Katie, look.  They’re all cuddled up and playing nice.”

“Matt,” Ryou whined, covering his face with his left hand.  “Go away.”

Pidge snorted as she stepped around Matt, carrying a tray with two bowls and what looked like a thermos.  “Don’t banish us yet.  We brought food.”

“Did you have to bring Matt?” Shiro asked, mostly muffled in Ryou’s shoulder.

“He invited himself.”

Matt slapped a hand over his chest, as though he were an offended Southern grandmother.  “I thought I would see to you in this, your hour of need,” he told them.  “And it must be bad, if you’re watching  _ Insurrection.” _

Jabbing Ryou in the side, Shiro made a smug noise. “See?  Even Matt agrees with me.”

Ryou only grumbled back, unwilling to have the argument again.  Instead he looked up at both the Holts and managed a smile.  “Thanks.  ‘Preciate it.”

“You need anything else?” Pidge asked.  “More water, blankets, tissues?”

Checking over in Shiro’s head, Ryou hummed.  “I think we’re good.  You good?”

“Mhmm.”

“We’re good.”

Matt continued to beam at them.  “I need to steal that phone from Lance so we can get a picture.  This is precious.”  He reached out, wrapping an arm around Pidge’s shoulders and pulling her in close.  She just barely put down the tray in time, so it didn’t spill all over the floor.  “It’s good to see siblings get along as well as Katie and I do.”

Sharing a look, Ryou and Shiro silently and mutually decided not to bring up their fight just minutes before.  Instead, Shiro tilted his head and raised a brow.

_ Do you remember what I’m thinking? _

Ryou gave a tiny nod and a smirk back.   _ Oh yeah. _

Without needing any further confirmation, they both launched into their parts.

“Katie,” Shiro groaned dramatically, bringing his thumb and pinky to the side of his face like he was speaking on the phone.  “I told you to stay out of my room.”

“You don’t know that I was in your room,” Ryou replied immediately, voice pitched up to match a younger Pidge.  “And I needed a pen, who cares?  It’s not like you use it.”

“Stay out of my room while I’m gone,” Shiro continued, voice raising and growing more irritated.  Despite that, his smirk grew more smug, as Matt’s eyes widened.  “I’ll know.  I put up traps.”

Snorting loudly, Ryou tossed his head like he was flipping longer hair.  “No you won’t.  I know all your dumbass traps.  I beat them all easy.”

Shiro shook his head.  “No you don’t.  I have more. How else do you think I know about this, hm?  You’re not nearly as smart as you think you are.  Stay  _ out _ of my room.  You have your own.”

“You’re going to be gone for months!  What do you even care?”

“My room is going to be a national monument some day, Katie-bear.  Don’t mess with the integrity of the site.  The Canadian Government will have you arrested.”

“No, they won’t!  In another year someone will go past the solar system and no one will care about your useless ice samples.”

Grabbing the pillow from under them, Pidge brought it down hard on both of them.  “Enough!”  She snapped, cheeks faintly pink.  “What the hell?  You remember that?  Did you  _ practice _ that?”

Matt paused and glanced at her. “Okay, but did you stay out of my room?”

In response, Pidge only lobbed the pillow at Matt’s head next.

“We didn’t practice,” Shiro told them, still grinning like a smug loon.  “I just remember it.”

Shaking his head, Matt tossed the pillow back to them.  “Okay, clearly the pair of you are fine.  That’s  _ creepy, _ for the record.  You just... did it.”

“Twins,” Ryou replied, with all the irony he could manage.

Matt shivered delicately.  Then he eyed Pidge. “So what’d you take from my room?”

Groaning, Pidge glared at them both.  “I’m getting you back for starting this.”  Then she shoved at Matt until he reluctantly went, still guessing what she could have stolen from his room.

Without looking away from the doorway, Shiro held his hand up.  Ryou high-fived him, grinning.

Twins, indeed.


End file.
